


Jealousy is a Fickle Beast

by stileskolpath



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Derek, Alpha Derek Hale, Anal Sex, Bottom Stiles Stilinski, Derek Has Issues, Derek and Stiles are Mates, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Fluff and Mush, Fluff and Smut, Jealous Derek, Jealous Stiles, Knotting, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn With Plot, References to Knotting, Top Derek Hale, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings, Werewolf Kink, Werewolf Mates, Werewolf Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-14
Updated: 2013-10-14
Packaged: 2017-12-29 08:50:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1003402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stileskolpath/pseuds/stileskolpath
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"The guy walked by the bar and paused. Literally stopped. in. his. tracks. He gave Stiles the up-down with his eyes, practically undressing him where he stood next to Derek. He flicked a small smile toward Stiles, a sharp, sour scent oozing from his pores and sticking to the back of Derek’s throat with want. The werewolf fought down a gag. Stiles nodded at the guy politely, and Derek let a deep, instinctive growl slip from his throat. </p><p>He was not okay with that. Any of it. At all. And the frequency with which it happened when they went out was… yeah, too much. Was Stiles like, everyone’s type, or something? Just his luck."</p><p>a.k.a. the one time that Derek gets jealous of the guy hitting on Stiles, and immediately regrets it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Jealousy is a Fickle Beast

**Author's Note:**

> Based on this post here, this ficlet is for Sterek-much, who gave me an unsolicited promo last night and is totally freaking awesome. 
> 
> So, without further ado, I give you: jealous!derek with a side of porn and jealous!stiles. 
> 
> Because I’m cool like that. Enjoy!
> 
> -SK

The guy walked by the bar and paused. Literally stopped. in. his. tracks. He gave Stiles the up-down with his eyes, practically undressing him where he stood next to Derek. He flicked a small smile toward Stiles, a sharp, sour scent oozing from his pores and sticking to the back of Derek’s throat with want. The werewolf fought down a gag. Stiles nodded at the guy politely, and Derek let a deep, instinctive growl slip from his throat. He was not okay with that. Any of it. At all.

And the frequency with which it happened when they went out was… yeah, too much. Was Stiles like, everyone’s type, or something? Just his luck.

“You’re doing it again, dude,” Stiles intoned, cocking his head toward the werewolf as he took a swig from his drink, throat bobbing under his chin. He had a ridiculous half-grin on his face, and Derek lifted a knowing eyebrow. Stiles was enjoying this way too much.

“What?” He asked, feigning ignorance.

Stiles rolled his eyes. “You’re growling at people. While I may be used to your werewolf-specific ideas of mating and relationships, most other humans are not.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Derek shrugged, his eyes suddenly, intensely, focused on the drink in his own hand. Not looking at Stiles’ naturally interrogatory expression. Not. It was times like this that he really wished alcohol had any effect on him whatsoever. Then maybe he could blame the heat slipping across his face on that. Even in the semi-darkness of the bar, Derek figured that it had to be visible.

Stiles scoffed and shook his head, probably noticing the deep shade of red that was scrawled across his mate’s face. “And you say it’s really easy to tell when I’m lying.”

Across the room, the next contestant, a thickly-muscled dude with close-cropped hair, angular features, sporting a too-tight tank top and jeans that appeared to be literally painted on over his ass, was staring at Stiles, leering at his lean form hungrily, like one might eye a cut of meat. Derek felt an involuntary scowl slip across his face as his wolf growled somewhere inside him. As the dude approached, a visible swagger in his step, Derek had to dig his fingers into his palm to keep the claws from showing. He was not enjoying this, and neither was his wolf. He edged instinctively closer to Stiles, who was turned around and leaning over the bar, trying to get the attention of the bartender for another round, his ass prominently on display, a small strip of skin poking out from underneath his shirt as he stretched.

Derek watched as the dude’s eyes flicked down toward his mate’s ass. He prepared for the worst as he felt his wolf slip to the surface in response.

“Hey-” The guy’s voice was deep and thick, and that was all Derek was able to catch before his fangs slipped past his lips and his alpha-vision kicked in. He opened his mouth into a loud, snarling roar, and inserted himself protectively in front of Stiles’ ass, his Stiles-ass.

He regretted the decision immediately.

Well, almost immediately. He had to suppress a fangy grin when the roiling scent of the dude’s sheer, abject terror reached his nose, especially when it was accompanied by a growing dark spot in the crotch of his skin-tight jeans. The dude stood there for a second, frozen between the desire to run out of the bar in shame, and the desire to continue pissing himself where he stood. Out of the two of them, Derek was probably more surprised at the reaction. The last time anyone had been terrified of him was… yeah, he couldn’t remember it. He’d been hanging out with Stiles and his group of friends for too long.

Behind Derek, he heard a glass shatter as it hit the floor. His ears flicked toward the sound and he winced. Stiles. He turned, expecting to be berated and dragged, claws-first, from the bar for his lack of control and jealousy-induced werewolfry. However, the sight that met his eyes was not what he expected.

On the ground at Stiles’ feet was his newly-replenished drink, glass shattered into a million tiny shards on the grimy floor. And leaning over it, clutching his side and snorting was Stiles himself. It took Derek a second to realize that the human was laughing. Hard. Confusion settled in as he watched his mate shudder uncontrollably from the force of his awkward, choked laughter.

“Stiles?” Derek asked, acutely aware of the fact that he hadn’t shifted back to normal yet. Great. Like his wolf was just waiting for someone else to try him. Stiles didn’t answer.

“Stiles.” Derek spat again, sharper this time, trying to get the human’s attention as he hiccuped between laughs.

“Oh god…I’m…dying,” Stiles managed to get out, clutching at his chest before falling into another hysterical fit of laughter. At this point, Derek knew he had no choice but to wait it out. Which would prove difficult, because literally everyone else in the bar was currently staring at him. Literally all of them. It was weird, like he was some kind of… Oh, right. He wrapped a clawed hand around Stiles’s arm to yank him out of his fit toward the exit. The human chuckled as the last of his hysterics escaped him, and he wiped tears from his eyes. He turned, catching the frozen, unblinking eyes of the rest of the patrons, ghost of a smile still pulling at his lips. “See what I mean? Not used to it, Derek!” he shouted, another howl of laughter overtaking him. He threw a bill up on the counter, enough for several new glasses and a tip as Derek led him from the bar, still laughing.

Through his wolf, Derek just scowled all the way back to the car. They were halfway home before Stiles finally calmed down totally, well, almost. Derek was white-knuckling the steering wheel, glaring at the road in front of them like it had wronged him in some way.

“Glad to know that was so funny to you,” he spat at Stiles, who took the proffered anger in stride.

“Dude, you have no idea. That was hilarious. I mean did you see it? The guy pissed himself. His face, oh god, his face, with the…” he mimicked the terrorized, fear-stricken expression that was etched across the guy’s face before losing it again. “Oh god, I can’t,” he let slip another quick chortle and wiped a wayward tear from his eye. Derek bit back a smile of his own. He would not encourage this behavior, not when he freaking wolfed-out on some poor, defenseless human in the middle of a crowded bar. And was now currently stuck that way. Because karma’s a bitch.

Then Stiles shot him a look. A look that Derek was decidedly not going to meet. The strain of holding back his smile was pushing his still-not-retracted fangs into the flesh of his lips. Nope, he thought. Absolutely not. His resolve faltered, and it broke across his face with a meant-to-be-stifled chuckle of his own. Damn it.

Next to him, Stiles moved close, wrapping a long arm around his bicep and smiling like a moron.

“You’re kind of adorable when you’re jealous, you know that, Sourwolf?”

Derek rolled his eyes and forced his grin under wraps. “You’re an idiot,” he scoffed. “I’m not jealous. I’m just… protective.” Stiles cocked a skeptical eyebrow.

“Uh-hunh.” He was unconvinced.

“What? He was looking at you like you were some kind of- of-”

“-prey?” Stiles finished. Derek shot him a look. “I remember someone else looking at me like that once upon a time.”

Derek snorted. “Yeah, the three other guys that came up to you before that,” he muttered.

Stiles nuzzled his shoulder in response. Derek didn’t need to look to know the gesture was dripping with so much cute that it was almost sticky. Internally, he kicked at his wolf, which seemed to be enjoying the contact. “Whatever, dude, you love me and you can’t even deny it,” Stiles reasoned.

Derek was incredulous. “I could, you know,” he spat back.

Stiles just laughed. “Well, then, I could force you turn around, and drive back to the bar full of witnesses to the contrary, and make you try to do it in front of them.” Derek knew Stiles had him there.

“I had something else in mind,” he replied. Stiles cocked an eyebrow at him appreciatively.

“You, or the wolf?” He asked. Derek shrugged.

“A little of both?”

—

They barely made it back to the loft before Derek pounced on him, awkwardly tripping over Stiles’ feet as they made their way into the elevator, trying to move against each other as they made out like a pair of horny teenagers. Derek pressed him up against the side of it, snarling as he nipped lightly at his neck. Stiles hissed at the sensation, eyes fluttering shut at the contact. They barely noticed when the elevator came to a stop at their floor, and the gate clattered open.

They staggered toward the opening, tripping and trodding on each other’s toes as they tried to continue. When they failed miserably, Stiles just laughed. Derek had tried to fish his keys from his pocket, but between the still un-retracted claws and the frantic, definitely-not-jealousy-fueled make-outs, he had dropped them. When he bent to pick them up, reluctantly breaking their embrace, and Stiles slid a hand down the back of his jeans, cupping his ass aggressively. Derek yelped.

“Shhh,” Stiles cooed sarcastically, “You’ll wake the neighbors.”

“We don’t have any neighbors, Stiles,” Derek responded, no trace of humor in his voice. Stiles shook his head and signed, pushing past him as the slid the door open.

Derek closed it behind them, and Stiles was already halfway to the bed, twisting out of his shirts and tossing them onto the floor before diving into mattress, bucking his hips to yank off his pants. Derek followed suit eagerly, stripping just before he crawled in between his mate’s legs. He posted up on locked arms over him, staring for a long moment into his amber-brown eyes with his own, glowing red light of them deepening the flush of swollen, irritated skin across Stiles’ neck and cheeks.

“Well,” Stiles asked, long, lithe fingers trailing absentmindedly over his mate’s shoulders, “We gonna have ourselves some kinky alpha werewolf sex or not?”

Derek’s laugh came out as a soft growl as he drove their lips together and drank deep. It wasn’t long before Stiles was stroking his cock, and begging, with each press of his lips on Derek’s skin, for more. When Derek finally gave in, and slid his own cock home into his mate, he was already halfway to orgasm. It was just a few quick, breathless thrusts of his hips, before he felt it begin to build past any point of control, thrumming at the base of his cock. He took in a deep breath. A deep, heady breath of Stiles.

The scent was strong. It was always strong, but now it was overpowering. It was enough to finish what their tryst in the elevator had started. It oozed out of every pore, drowning Derek’s other senses in the sweet, salty aroma. He drove deeper, thrusting harder, again and again, as Stiles’ only words came out as muttered incoherent streams of curses, his body pushed upward on the sheets with the force of each drive. Derek dug claws into the flesh of his sides, drawing little sickle-smiles of blood from the skin as they rutted.

“C’mon,” Stiles’ wrecked and jagged voice whispered, “Fuck me. Harder. I need it. I need to be fuuuuuucked.” The moan, the scent, all of it was too much. Derek couldn’t hold on much longer. Steely, sharp, white-hot energy began to bleed into the shaft of his cock, the sensation tightening, coalescing, building, as he pounded against Stiles.

And suddenly, Derek was coming, cock thickening inside his mate as everything he owned seized, the force of it slamming his eyelids shut and curling his toes as he drove deeper. His lips were frozen over the raw expanse of Stiles’ neck, the cord of muscle just behind his jugular. Stiles. Derek resisted the urge to bite down, to draw blood with his teeth as a wordless, blunt sound of something more beast than man slipped from his throat. Everything he thought, that he was, that he could feel, taste, smell, all of it was Stiles, Stiles, Stiles.

Stiles followed suit with a loud, wrecked moan, arching his back off the bed as he fucked into the circle of one hand, his ass tightening around Derek’s still-hard cock. The long fingers of his unoccupied hand dug into the skin of the werewolf’s back, and for a second, Derek questioned which of the two of them had the claws. As the desperate, greedy sound of Stiles’ orgasm escaped his mouth, Derek licked a stripe across the ruined skin underneath his jaw, savoring the taste of their mingled scents. It was a mix of Stiles’ thick, dripping aroma, and the subtle, possessive musk of his own. And it was perfect. As they finished, and Derek eased his eyelids back open, broken breaths heaving from his chest. Stiles’ smoldering amber-brown eyes locked onto his own, and he nodded softly, almost imperceptibly. He moaned as Derek let go of what little fraying restraint he had left. The werewolf’s cock began to swell, knot filling up the space inside Stiles as he held his hips tightly to the mattress. Derek let the sensation of it wash over him, waves and waves of his own recycled orgasm crashing across his already-misfiring nerves. He pressed quiet, panting kisses against his mate’s slack lips, licked the beading sweat from his jaw, and whispered obscene, possessive, encouraging filth into his ear as he knotted him. They stayed that way for a long time, until Derek began to feel Stiles’ cock harden against his abdomen once more. After a few minutes of friction, of overwrought nerves, of mingling smells of sex and sweat and come, Stiles came in the space between them, clenching around Derek’s knot as the werewolf pressed a gentle kiss to his lips.

“Mine?” He whispered into Stiles’ mouth, question broken by the expectant growl of his wolf.

“Yours,” Stiles answered, leading the beast willingly back to its cage.

When it was finally over, and Derek drew himself from his mate slowly, and Stiles let out a quiet laugh as his red eyes began to swirl and fade back to their normal green.

“God I love me some jealous alpha sex,” he proclaimed to the air with a laugh, running his fingers through Derek’s mussed-up hair. Derek just smiled into his skin, and kissed the scattered moles on his chest, enjoying that his was the only scent he could detect on the human.

—

The next time they went out, it was to a new bar. One where no one had seen Derek wolf-out at anyone who made a pass at Stiles, who was, at the moment, in the restroom.

It was that same moment when Derek suddenly found himself cornered on a bar stool, by a lean, redheaded dude with a freckled face and big, blue eyes. Derek’s heart flicked into his throat as the guy invaded his personal space.

“Hey,” the newcomer intoned with a slight nod, every gesture oozing confidence. Derek swallowed, completely and totally taken aback. “You’re cute,” he smiled, and Derek coughed up a little of his drink.

“Thanks, but I’m-” He didn’t get the rest of the sentence out before Stiles’ back suddenly filled his vision, as the human inserted himself pointedly into the space between him and the newcomer, his scent heavy with a familiar, almost protective tinge.

“Back off, howdy-doody, he’s spoken-for.” Stiles made a curt, angry-looking gesture with his hands, signaling the dude should extricate himself from the vicinity of his werewolf.

“Sorry,” the guy smiled over Stiles’ shoulder, trying to meet Derek’s eyes one last time. He ignored the gaze as Stiles shifted his head to block the attempt. “I didn’t realize.”

“Yeah, well now ya do. So move along, before I move it for you.” The newcomer held up his hands in submission under Stiles’ baleful glare before turning to leave with his tail between his legs.

Stiles turned to face Derek, who had a smug expression written across his face. Stiles leveled a finger at Derek’s nose knowingly. “Shut up.”

Derek shrugged as he brushed past him to flag down the bartender. “I didn’t say anything.” He felt a half-smile curl at the corner of his lips. “But you’re really cute when you’re jealous.”

“I told you to shut up,” Stiles bit back before adding, “And I don’t get jealous.” Derek snorted derisively in response. At least he hadn’t busted a gut like Stiles had when he wolfed out on that last dude at the other bar.

"Right, that’s why you didn’t reek of it, just now," Derek retorted.

Stiles jabbed him in the ribs with a finger as he waited for his drink. Derek started in response and leveled a side-glare at the human. His human. No one else’s.

“You know, if we don’t want this to happen, we should just stay home on weekends,” Derek suggested, as he wrapped a solid arm around Stiles’ waist. He let his fingers ruck up the back of his mate’s shirt slightly, slipping underneath to get at the warm skin beneath it. Stiles turned into him with a warm look, leaning over his forearms on the bar.

“S’good idea, Sourwolf.”

Derek chuckled and pressed a placid kiss against his lips in agreement.

Because as much as Stiles was his, Derek knew that he also belonged to Stiles. Call it jealousy, call it being overprotective, whatever. He didn’t care. He wouldn’t have it any other way.

And the funny thing was, neither would Stiles.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, hope you liked it! Make sure to leave kudos and comments before you go, and if you want, feel free to check out my tumblr.
> 
> You can find it here.
> 
> Thanks again for reading!
> 
> -Stiles Kolpath


End file.
